CHAPTER XIX.

THE AUTO-DA-FE OF VERSAILLES.

IT was in 1788 that the last instance of a sentence of breaking on thewheel occurred. The following were the circumstances:

In the Rue de Satory at Versailles lived an elderly smith of the name of Mathurin Louschart. This man was the type of artisans of former days: he was full of prejudices and antipathies, and a lover of tradition. Fully persuaded of the superiority of his profession over any other, he would not have exchanged his leather apron for a magistrate's robes or an abbé's cassock. He abhorred new ideas; the Montmorencies, the Rohans of the time had not the supreme contempt which he professed for equality, saying that even if a donkey's ears were ever so much shortened, it was impossible to make a horse of it. However, excepting his eccentric ways and odd ideas, Mathurin Louschart, or rather Master Mathurin, as he was called in the neighbourhood, was a good man, who was always true to his word, was scrupulously honest, and often showed much kindness and charity to his poorer brethren. He had a son named Jean, a fine and handsome young man, whom he loved dearly. It was difficult to say of which Master Mathurin was prouder

-his superior capacity as a smith, or of his child. He sent him to school and gave him the best education money could procure. But while he was glad to see his son brought up as a gentleman, he was so enamoured with his own calling that he prevailed on Jean to adopt it.

The young man yielded to his father's wishes with some regret; but, although he attended to his professional duties with tolerable industry, he nevertheless. went on reading; and he took more interest in JeanJacques Rousseau than in shoeing horses. The father did not oppose this, although the difference of education and ideas which existed between them became a cause of serious quarrel between father and son. Revolution was brewing, and Jean Louschart supported the new ideas which filled the masses with extreme enthusiasm. Jean had the greatest respect for Voltaire, Rousseau, Montesquieu, and Diderot, while Master Mathurin regarded them as creatures of hell. the young man, carried away by his enthusiasm, extolled the merits of these philosophers. Master Mathurin, who hitherto had never suspected that his son was a freethinker, was at first astounded at his audacity; but his stupefaction was soon succeeded by anger. A dispute followed, and Jean was peremptorily ordered to hold his tongue. The young man who, although respectful, was passionate and headstrong, disobeyed the injunction, and retorted that his father had a novel way of settling a discussion. This of course did not mend matters; and at length Master Mathurin showed his son the door. It was in vain that Jean expressed his regret and readiness

One day at dinner

to apologise; the old smith would listen to no excuse, and turned him out.

Shortly before this a widow slightly related to Master Mathurin had come to live in his house together with her daughter. Madame Verdier-such was the new-comer's name—had taken a dislike to Jean; and, although the young man felt no great affection for her, he was smitten by the charms of Helen Verdier, her daughter, and his affection was returned. No doubt father and son might have made it up, and Jean was anxious for a reconciliation-for more reasons than one; but Madame Verdier interfered and incited Master Mathurin to discard Jean for ever. She even went further; her influence with him was so great that she persuaded him to become Jean's rival by suing for Helen's hand. The poor girl was ordered by her mother to forget Jean and prepare to marry Master Mathurin.

Jean had easily found work in Versailles; he was employed by a man who afterwards became a notorious member of the Convention, Lecointre. He took his master's advice; and, as it was evident that Mathurin wished to marry out of spite against his son, the latter determined to elope with his sweetheart. Jean punctually repaired to his father's house on the night appointed for his flight with Helen; he waited outside for some time, but Helen did not appear. He was getting uneasy when from the house issued shrieks which he immediately recognised as Helen's. He broke the door open without a moment of hesitation, and beheld Madame Verdier, who, having, no doubt, discovered the projected

elopement, was unmercifully beating her daughter, while Master Mathurin was grimly looking on.

The sight was too much for Jean; he rushed forward to protect his sweetheart; but his father stopped him, and, with the utmost violence, upbraided him for what he styled his infamous conduct. Madame Verdier now came forward also, and goaded the old smith to such a climax of fury that he spat in his son's face. Jean had suffered in silence; but this last insult was too much for his temper, and he retorted with words of extreme bitterness. At this Mathurin's rage knew no bounds; he seized a crowbar and aimed a terrific blow at Jean. The passage in which this scene was taking place was so narrow that the bar struck against the wall as it came down, and Jean was able to leap aside. Helen, who was gazing with terror at the awful contest, cried to Jean to fly. The young man followed her advice, and made for the door while his father was raising his crowbar for the second time; but the woman Verdier had anticipated him and was resolutely standing against it. Mathurin struck a second blow, and again missed his aim. As he was raising the crowbar for the third time, Jean rushed past him, and tried to enter the workshop, whence he intended to jump through the window into the street; but the door of the workshop was also locked, and his father was giving chase; as he tried to break it open, a heavy mass of iron whizzed just above his head, and struck one of the panels, which it shattered to pieces. Old Louschart had laid down his crowbar, and had hurled his heavy hammer. He now came up and grappled with

Jean, who now felt that he could only save his life by mastering him. He seized his father's arm, as it was poising the hammer over his head for the fourth time, and tried to wrench the weapon from his grasp. The old man, however, was yet possessed of great physical strength; but his son was young and muscular, and he succeeded in overthrowing him. He disarmed him, tore himself away from his grasp, rose to his feet, and took to flight. As he was crossing the threshold, hardly knowing what he was about, he threw behind him the heavy hammer, and rushed out. So rapid was his flight that he did not hear a cry in the workshop after he had flung back the hammer. Master Mathurin had just risen from the ground; the heavy mass of iron struck him above the right eyebrow and fractured his skull.

Madame Verdier came to the old smith's assistance ; but he was quite dead. The neighbours, roused by Helen's cries, entered the house. They were told by Madame Verdier that Jean had murdered his father. Mathurin was liked, in spite of his defects; and great indignation prevailed. The news soon spread throughout Versailles, and was a subject of general conversation from the palace to the workshop. The crime of parricide occurred so rarely that the death of Mathurin excited deep emotion; and the King himself ordered M. de Lamoignon to proceed against the culprit without a moment's delay.

Madame Verdier's evidence was taken; she swore that she had seen Jean aim the deadly blow. As to Helen, the tragic events of the night had so bewildered